


dear my closest friend

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Blogging, Crushes, F/M, Jeremy’s dad is trying his best, M/M, Mentions of Self-destructive Behaviour, Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Wow angst, based on the song by flyleaf, shitty ending, supportive squip squad, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 01:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15450123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: dear my closest friend,i’m writing because i miss you so much~~~or, jeremy isn’t doing well and he blogs about it





	dear my closest friend

There was something wrong with Jeremy Heere. That is to say, more so than usual. Maybe no one could tell, maybe everyone did. Maybe everyone saw the way the light had faded behind his eyes, and how the excitement he displayed seemed like it was drawn from the bottom of some deep well that was starting to run dry. Maybe everyone knew the battle he was fighting every time he closed his eyelids or shut his bedroom door. 

 

His bedroom door was shut a lot more than usual. Jeremy came home from school and slid into his room, barely speaking to his dad- if he was even home, that is. His dad had gotten a new, better job after the incident, like he was trying to shape up so Jeremy wouldn’t have to. Like it wasn’t Jeremy who had cooked nearly all the meals for years, like it wasn’t Jeremy who had to go out and buy the milk that eventually spoiled in the fridge. But he was trying, even when Jeremy didn’t seem to want him to. 

 

Jeremy left his room for one reason- school. And sometimes, not even that, the door remaining closed, like it was a barrier against the world. When he did go, he muddled through his classes, and interactions with his friends, who might have noticed the near silence from the tall boy. They definitely did- he saw Christine’s worried eyes, felt Brooke’s gentle hand on his elbow, noticed the way that Rich made a point to make Jeremy smile each lunch period at least once, even if it was begrudging. He realized that Jake walked with him to a few classes, his crutches clicking on the linoleum as he filled the silence with talk about his latest interest- Jeremy didn’t even mind that it was about cricket- or was it croquet? It kept him out of his head, which was nice. Jenna always made sure to send him a silly meme once a day, maybe even five or six different ones, trying to get him to laugh. Hell, even Chloe of all people kept her slightly biting comments to herself. 

 

Michael was the first to notice, Jeremy was sure. He knew Jeremy’s mannerisms, better than anyone, but they had been on shaky terms ever since the play. They had tried to talk it out, but it had resulted in slammed doors and shouting and tears on both ends. 

 

And so Jeremy withdrew. And withdrew still further, until he seemed to fade into himself- or possibly his clothes, which seemed to get bigger and bigger on him, until he looked almost scarecrow-like; painted smile and all. 

 

That’s when Michael found the blog. It had been nearly six months since the play, and there were posts for almost every day. 

 

At first, Michael wasn’t sure it was Jeremy. The short letters, all addressed the same way, were almost ambiguous at the beginning, but all the details made sense, even if the words didn’t.  _ Dear My Closest Friend  _ was a small hit- not big enough to warrant many people’s attention, but it apparently had a following. The writer, know as QuantumBoy, never said his name, but Michael knew Jeremy. Maybe not as well as he thought he did, but some of the lines were unmistakably him. 

 

The first letter was the most heartfelt, the date marking it’s posting as the first day Jeremy had gotten home from the hospital. 

 

_ Dear My Closest Friend, _

 

_ I’m writing because I miss you so much. Which may be selfish, I know. You’re not the one who left. But even if you’re back- or is it me that’s back?- you’re still so far away from me. I was going to address this as ‘best friend’ but I don’t think I deserve that title after all I did to you. After all I messed up. But I wonder what would’ve happened if I just listened to you, and I wish I had made better decisions. Would you still be with me if I had done the right thing? _

 

_ Yours Truly,  _

_ QuantumBoy _

 

The letters continued on like that for a while, a mixture of apologies and reminiscing that only those that shared the memories would know about. Phrases and bits and pieces of the letters stood out to Michael. Things he knew Jeremy would never say, at least not out loud. Things about his mother, about his thoughts, about what ‘it’- presumably the SQUIP- had said to him, things that made Michael want to find the shorter boy and wrap his arms around him and never let go. The apologies and words were sincere and heartbreaking- the ramblings of a teenage boy. About three months after the blog started, another letter caught Michael’s eye. 

_ Dear My Closest Friend, _

 

_ The first few weeks, at night in my room, I’d always cry. Everything was silent, even me. Even sobbing didn’t really do much, it was more of just tears. The stillness still reminds me of when I first fell in love with you. We were in my basement, between levels, and it was so silent and calming- I looked over at you through a cloud of smoke you had breathed out, at your dorky grin when the smoke circle was almost perfect, and everything felt right and normal and I didn’t feel like I was drowning or dying or messed up. And I miss that so much.  _

 

_ Yours Truly, _

_ QuantumBoy _

 

That had gotten Michael’s attention, in a breath stopping, heart wrenching twist of his thoughts.  _ Fell in love.  _ Michael stared at those words for a few seconds, his heart pounding. It was as sincere as the rest of the letters, but immediately Jeremy rebutted it with words about how he hadn’t thought much of it, because ‘she’- Christine, probably- was what he wanted. Or thought he wanted. 

 

Michael was an addict, and he couldn’t stop. The words seemed to rush through his head, until he reached this week. One day ago, Jeremy- or QuantumBoy- had posted a longer letter than usual.

 

_ Dear My Closest Friend, _

 

_ I remember when you asked me to stay, and I just walked away. I apologize for that, so much. I dream about that sometimes- apologizing, in person. Or the possibility of showing you this, of you seeing and knowing that I’m sorry for everything I said and did. You’ll realize that I do care, and we’ll somehow make up, and we’ll have a romantic moment. But in the dreams, my letters send, and I lose that moment. Seconds at a time. I wait for your answer- but I already know. I wish that you could say that you always loved me back, that your heart, your hand was always mine. Then I wake up, and I realize that I can’t ever do that to you. Wishful thinking gets me nowhere except further into the thoughts in my head. But remember what I said? You’re my favourite person. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t still dream. Dreaming was what got me out of this mess, maybe dreaming can get me out of it. _

 

_ Yours Truly,  _

_ QuantumBoy _

 

Today’s letter made Michael’s heart stop, and he stared at it for a few seconds, trying to process the words. It had just been posted about five minutes ago, and it had the same style as the rest of the letters, but the words made Michael’s brain want to stop working. This couldn’t be real, but the words were there, glowing from the laptop balanced on Michael’s knees.

 

_ Dear My Closest Friend, _

 

_ I’m writing because I miss you so much. That’s how I started this, that’s how I’ll end it. This time, you won’t be the one leaving- that’ll be me. It’s always been me, leaving. You deserve better, you always have. If you ever find this, I hope you know that it wasn’t your fault. And that’s why I’m letting you go. You were always the better one of us two. You coped better. You had common sense that I apparently lacked- or rather, that I ignored. And now you’ll be free from this burden, and so will I. I’m leaving this on my computer- you know the password, you’ll find it, eventually, if you go into my room after I’m gone. It’s not the best explanation, at all, but maybe it’ll make sense. I only hope that you’re not the one to find me, though I don’t know why you would be. If you are, I’m sorry. And this is my final message to you: _

 

_ I miss you, and I hope you won’t miss me too much. I love you, Michael. _

 

_ Yours Truly, _

_ Jeremy _

 

_ P.S. Make sure my dad keeps going. He’s been trying for me, so tell him to keep trying for me.  _

_ P.P.S. Don’t cry for me. _

 

It was a little late for those words, as Michael’s tears streamed down his cheeks. He slammed his laptop shut, racing out the door and ignoring his mother’s calls behind him, about how it was the middle of the night, and he took off down the street. He didn’t bother to take his Cruiser, calling Jeremy again and again, like he should have done ages ago, but each one was ignored. 

 

Michael fumbled with the spare key in the lock, hands shaking and glasses blurred with the tears clinging to his eyelashes. He eventually got it open, racing up to Jeremy’s room. He saw Mr. Heere’s bedroom light flick on, but he ignored it, flinging open the door. Jeremy lay on his bed, as if he was staring up at the glow-in-the-dark constellations him and Michael had put up ages ago, but his eyes were closed, and in his hand was clasped a small orange bottle. Empty. “No, no, no.” Michael babbled, and the hall light flickered on as Michael pulled the small, way too light boy into his arms, still sobbing. Mr. Heere stood in the doorway, and he seemed surprised to find Michael Mell cradling his son’s head, sobbing, on his bed. 

 

“Ambulance.” Michael choked out between tears. He’d never cried like this before, not ever in his life. Not even when his dog had died. Or even in the bathroom at Jake’s party. Mr. Heere’s face, pale and drawn, was determined as he nodded, turning around. Michael noticed that his shoulders were tensed, just like his son’s were- used to be- when he was trying to hold in emotion. 

 

Michael looked down at the pale boy curled in his arms, and he gave a small, watery chuckle that sounded like a sob. He wasn’t even sure why he was laughing- nothing was funny, everything was wrong, but the laughing sob wrenched itself out of him. “F-Fuck, Jeremy, you massive idiot. All those years- th-those years I spent p-pining after you, you d-dick.” He didn’t even know quite what he was saying. “Y-You can’t d-die on me now, M-Miah, please. I l-love you, goddamnit, p-please don’t die.” 

 

The next few minutes were a blur- Mr. Heere came in, and then they were both crying, and Michael felt awkward having just confessed his love to a possibly dead boy right in front of his dad. Then Michael carried Jeremy- too light, too silent, too pale- out to the ambulance, and he was sent to the hospital with Mr. Heere, leaving Michael crying on the Heere’s doorstep. 

 

It took a day for Michael to learn that he had gotten to Jeremy in time, but that he was unresponsive for the time being. Alive, but barely. He visited every day, making sure that he was there, just in case the other boy woke up. 

 

Every day after school for two weeks, Michael was either with Jeremy in the hospital, or at home, sleeping fitfully. Everything was happening at once, until finally, finally, Jeremy opened his eyes, and Michael was there in barely ten minutes after he got the phone call. He’d vowed to never leave his side again. The first thing he said to Jeremy was actually already written for him.

 

Michael cleared his throat. “Dear My Closest Friend, I’m writing because I miss you so much…” 

**Author's Note:**

> wowza that was a mess,, sorry about this i wrote and edited a good portion of this while crying. so, i apologize for any typos. also the ending sucks because i couldn’t write dialogue. but hey, c’est la vie. 
> 
> on another note, i love this song no matter how sad it is.
> 
> anyways, i’m going on a week long vacation this saturday, so nothing will be posted, but i should come back with some stuff for you guys that wasn’t written at 1 am while crying. 
> 
> stay safe and stay wonderful, loves!
> 
> ~PlayerTwoHeere


End file.
